


Dyssomnias

by Babydoll Ria (Babydoll_Ria)



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-03
Updated: 2014-08-03
Packaged: 2018-02-11 13:14:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2069607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Babydoll_Ria/pseuds/Babydoll%20Ria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Finnick sleeps with Annie</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dyssomnias

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Emma_writes_things](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emma_writes_things/gifts).



> Not going to lie, this came to me because a guy I was at a bar with told me, he has never physically slept in the same bed as a girl. 
> 
> That made me think well, would Finnick?
> 
> Also, this can be considered a continuation of Rip Current, sort of an epilogue. It’s not really spoiling anything.

The first time Finnick Odair slept with Annie Cresta, she was sedated in her hospital bed after her Games.

Mags and he were running around, trying to deal with all the things one has to do when they suddenly had a Victor.  Well, Mags had a Victor, Finnick had a headless fourteen year old tribute, whose death had traumatized the girl in the hospital bed so much they thought it would be to keep her unconscious to let her mind repair itself.

This left him with not a lot to do, save those times when Snow called him, and thus he spent a lot of time stretched out in the uncomfortable straight back chairs that are more wood than barely cushioned fabric.

Annie stirred, when whatever drug they gave her was coming to the end and it caused her eyelids to flutter, and her pale heart-shaped face would start to contort with another scream. The nurses would hurry to drug her again.

He asked once, why they needed to drug her so heavily.

The head nurse, a kind looking woman with dark hair and shockingly electric blue eyes, curled her tongue at him and said, ‘She is going to have the rest of the night to have these nightmares, surely it won’t harm her to give her a few days of none.’

It was at seven days, when Mags wakes him. He had apparently fallen asleep in the chair, and ever so kindly, the orderlies had moved him to a small cot next to Annie’s bed. The cot was one they gave next of kin who refused to leave to get sleep.

Annie herself sat quietly in her bed, her wrists still chained to either side (before she was sedated she tried to scratch a doctor’s corneas like she did to the girl who made her watch), her green eyes were very clear, and it apparent the drug had been out of her system for a while.

It was almost time for Annie to leave.

* * *

 

The second time Finnick slept with Annie was an accident.  The Victor’s wharf had easily integrating Annie and her father Jonah, and Mags and Jonah both thought that Annie needed to be outside, near the water the most.

Finnick, personally thought she should probably stay inside until she can look at things that are circular without opening her mouth, and not screaming because the sound is somehow lost in her throat. Also she shouldn’t be out if knives terrify her.

Every Victor is broken, that’s a strong testament to it, and she just broke differently.

But being a Victor did not overlook the fact he was nineteen, and she was eighteen and closest to her age, thus giving him the job of baby sitter.

(When he told her that, there was a look of complete un-impressed Annie that reminded him so much of the girl on the train, it hurt.)

He was surprised how easily she adapted to crowds, more on her own. When he was with her in a crowd, she shrank. She curled up into herself and covered her face. But when it was just her, going to stores, going to the market, going to the library, and he watched from a far, she was fine. She would make small talk when she had to, smile easy.

When he took to the beach, she had her shoes off and was walking the coastline, getting knee deep into the water. He was hovering behind her, terrified she would have a fit, like she did when they were in the market and someone was cleaning fish. He had had to pick her up while she trashed and did that silent scream thing she did, her nails cutting him and her teeth biting his ear in a desperate attempt to get away or something.

She was fine.

‘What?’ Annie asked, kicking the waves like a child.

‘Are you-are you okay?’ He fumbled with the words.

‘Why wouldn’t I?’ She went further into the surf,  past her knees, her dress dragging down and the light breeze blowing her hair. ‘It’s just the ocean.’

‘Yeah but-but in the-‘He stopped. He didn’t talk about his Arena, no Victor did. There was a reason why Four often assigns a fellow Victor to care for the new one, the level of understanding, the empathy. And he just mucked it up.

‘Oh.’ She said softly, turning to him. He waited for a fit. ‘It wasn’t the ocean there. And…and it was my fault.’

She didn’t say more, and he didn’t know what else to say. Eventually the water got too cold for him, and he waded back to shore, sitting on the sand to dry off but Annie was from the North and she was used to the cold.

When Mags found them, they were passed out; Finnick’s large body taking up most of the space, while Annie back to him and on her side, used his arm for a pillow.

* * *

 

The third time Finnick slept with Annie, a bed was involved.

It had been a year since her games, and Johanna Mason had won in a way that made him slightly sick, and slightly worried when he saw the notes that Annie again made. When he asked her, she was impressed with the strategy, and said not many people would have been able to pull it off.

He had met Johanna Mason, and she was brash, loud, opinionated and did not understand the situation she was in. It was selfish, because Annie would meet her soon, but he would rather but some distance between them.

  He was nervous, which did not make sense, logically. He had done much worse in a bed than just sleep with someone.  And Annie sleeping in his presence was nothing new.

About six months into the babysitting turned awkward friendship (he was always saying the wrong thing, or something stupid, and Annie was never letting those go.  She has a list, he’s seen it, and it’s almost a notebook full, entitled  _Stupid Things Finnick Says_ ), it wasn’t uncommon for Annie to nap while they were hanging out.

He’s fallen asleep too, after finding out that drawing on Annie’s face while she’s sleeping has resulted in his favourite shirt being cut up.

But she had just told him, that when he’s nearby she doesn’t dream of the Arena.  She also explained that she often didn’t sleep at night because when she did, she would wake up screaming and wake her father up.

The paleness of her face was not natural, just tiredness.

She was the one who suggested the idea, just one night. If it felt awkward or wrong, they would forget it and move on.  It was to be completely innocent.

The thing was, Finnick had never slept with another person before. He had fucked and been fucked in beds, tables, really any surface, but he had never physically slept in the same bed as someone.

He had no clue what to do, and he sure as hell was not going to ask anyone for advice on how to do this. They would get the wrong idea, and he was twenty years old, he should be able to do this.

It was his house, they decided.

‘What side do you sleep on?’ Annie asked, she was wearing a nightgown, helping him turn down the sheets.

‘Uh…’He couldn’t remember, thinking that he usually stays in the center, but he’s woken up on either side. ‘Doesn’t matter.’

‘Okay.’ She chose the left side, and was waiting.

He couldn’t stop staring, Annie in her nightgown, in his bed, waiting for him just felt too intimate, too normal, and too wrong.

If neither of them were Victors, he is quite positive that he would be living with his girl, and she would be living with her man, and this would be an everyday occurrence. It wouldn’t feel different or odd.

But they’re Victors, and they paid a price that wasn’t theirs to pay, and they keep on paying it. And these slices of normality are what they give up.

He got in on his side, and turned off the lamp on the bed side table.

‘Night Annie.’ He said gruffly, so aware of the extra weight on the mattress, and the heat radiating of Annie.

‘Good night Finnick.’ He thought he could hear her laugh.

He woke up in the middle of the night needing to pee, to a face of hair, an awkward boner, and lack of feeling in his right arm.

Annie had curled up against him, her back flush against his chest, and she was once again using his arm as his pillow. His left hand was resting between her breasts, their fingers twinned together.

He was not expecting this. He didn’t want move, but he really had to pee, so he extracted himself from Annie, and had to pee and jack off before he could return to bed.

‘Finnick?’ Annie turned to face him, sleepily and confused. ‘Where’d you go?’

‘Sorry.’ He apologized, returning to bed, and wrapping himself around Annie. He kissed her hair, ’I’m back now.’

* * *

 

The fourth time Finnick slept with Annie, it was in the carnal sense of the word. Once they had discovered that sleeping together got rid of Annie’s nightmares, and calmed him down, they hadn’t really stopped.

He’s not sure when the line of awkward friendship became something different, but it definitely happened (He’s sure Annie could tell you, because he found a list entitled  _Things Finnick Does That Make Me Feel Weird_ , and another notebook filled list called  _Things I Love About Finnick_ ), and kissing in bed had become a thing.

Kissing in bed often led to Annie topless in bed, because after the first week, he returned to sleeping in boxers. And Annie topless often ended in boners and dry humping.

Sex took them awhile.

He never had sex with someone he wanted to. He didn’t have pleasant memories and any physical leap took a while.  Whenever he got called to the Capitol, it drove him insane; it was like five giant steps back.

But he couldn’t touch her, he want to, but he could never do that.

Annie never pushed; she let him set the pace. She let him know he wasn’t her first, and he couldn’t hurt her.

He didn’t mean to make love to Annie that night, but it happened.

He had nail marks down his back and Annie has love bites on her neck.

When they were tangled in the sheets, Annie lazily drawing designs on his arms, she looked at him, ‘Are you okay?’

She didn’t ask, if what they did, what he wanted to do with her over and over again was okay.

He had told what Snow did, and she had told him that she loved him. She listened for hours when he told her everything, when he cried she held him.

She then told him, she won’t touch him unless he tells her she can, and he has full permission to touch her whenever he wants.

‘Yeah.’ He said.

* * *

 

The fifth time he slept with Annie, it is just sleep.

He had just returned from the Capitol from the seventy-fourth Hunger Games, and he had not slept in two weeks.

In the almost four year relationship he has had with Annie, he has found he cannot sleep in a bed if she is not beside him.

He took catnaps on couches, but he never slept in a bed.  Beds and sleeping are with Annie.

Annie loves him, and when he’s beside her, it’s like the Games never happened, Snow never sold him, and he’s just a twenty-three year old man, with his girl.

The simplicity made him weep.

Annie’s soft hands on his led him from the train, to home.

She undressed him, while he held her, breathing in her scent and kissing her neck, face and eyelids.

Under the blankets, she held him.

Finnick slept.


End file.
